


Be One of Us Tonight

by StarShinobi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 08:22:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7259923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarShinobi/pseuds/StarShinobi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are many paths we can take in life, most times decided by a single choice, but it's never too late to change. A look into how the events of the Final Battle can lead to a different choice for Draco with a little help from Luna. She turned around and gave him a smile as she continued to run backward. "Choose to be one of us tonight."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be One of Us Tonight

“Your journey has molded you for the greater good. It was exactly what it needed to be. Don’t think you lost time. It took each and every situation you have encountered to bring you to the now. And now is the right time.”

~Asha Tysion

 

* * *

 

He didn’t know where he was running. All he knew was that he had to get away. Away from the fight, away from the flames.

Nothing had gone according to plan. He was supposed to bring Harry Potter back to the Dark Lord, but he couldn’t even do that! He had realized, as he had his wand pointed at the Golden Boy, that somewhere inside he wanted Potter to fight him, to stop him. Dare he admit it? A small part of him wanted Harry to kill him.

He couldn’t stand the outcome that would be waiting for him. Before he stepped in that room, there were three ways the night could end: Harry would be tortured and killed by the Dark Lord leading to Draco being forced to live in a world ruled by chaos and darkness; he would fail to bring Harry and be killed for his failure; or Harry would beat the Dark Lord and he would be thrown in Azkaban for the Mark on his arm.

None of those outcomes suited him.

At the time, he wished Harry would kill him. He wished that he would end his existence and spare him from enduring any of these endings; but as he stood on that stack of junk, he realized death was not as tempting of a mistress as he had originally thought when she lowered her hood. Then as he always did, Saint Potter came through, pulling him from a fate he had thought he wanted. He had never been so thankful for that pest’s interference in his life. Maybe he could make a new ending to this day. He could run.

So here he was, running through destroyed hallways that he hardly recognized anymore. Paintings had fled from their frames, which meant he was in a part of the castle Filch had not yet been able to “tidy up”. Students ran from doorways, away from any noise that arose. He quickly realized many of the students wore blue accents on their robes and concluded he must be near the Ravenclaw tower.

He stopped and looked out the window, watching countless numbers of Death Eaters rushing around the castle. Flairs of various colors, predominantly green, flashed on the ground below. The war was raging and he couldn’t help but wonder if his mother had been forced to join it or was spared the horror.

“Draco?”

The voice was soft and gentle but Draco still turned quickly, wand in hand and honed on the speaker, his body rigid. Even when his eyes locked with Luna Lovegood, he refused to let it falter. This was war after all and they were on opposing sides. As gentle as he knew this girl to be, his family had held her captive and nobody took that lightly. Not even Loony. “Lovegood.”

“Are you alright?”

He felt himself wane a bit, hopefully unbeknownst to his adversary. Why would she ask that? He zeroed in on her face, searching for any hint of deception; any telling of a trap, but then again, he had never really been able to decipher anything when it came to this girl. “What?” he snapped.

“Your clothes are singed. I was asking if you were alright. You look like you have been through quite a scare.” She didn’t draw her wand, she kept her hands clasped in front of her as she looked at him, her eyes squinted a bit as she took in his appearance. He shoulders were relaxed, completely unready to attack. How could she be so calm with a war going on just below their feet?

“I’m fine,” he said, narrowing his eyes and tightening his grip. “Why do you care?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” she countered.

This girl was irritating. “Because you should want me dead,” he said through gritted teeth.

Luna continued to look at him, her face not changing from the passive curiosity he had always associated with the girl. “Why?”

“Because we are on different sides!” Infuriating creature!

“We may be on different sides, but I guess I have never considered us enemies. So, I’m still not sure why I would want you dead.”

Draco wanted to strangle the girl. Enemies? Of course they were! Being on different sides made them enemies. She should want him dead. One less Death Eater to contend with; one less to worry about.

“Do you want me dead, Draco?” she asked keeping her distance, but her demeanor didn’t register any fear.

“Of…of course!” he said, choking on his own words, his wand arm becoming rigid once more as he mentally chastised himself for showing weakness.

“I know that’s not true,” she said, never flinching.

“And why not?”

“Because you haven’t killed me yet.” She smiled.

Draco felt rage begin to build in his chest, tightening around his lungs and heart. “I’m not a murderer,” he said, an odd echo of the old fool ringing in his memory.

But if he was an old fool, why did his words give him solace?

“That’s why we’re not enemies,” she said, her smile widening and oozing a calm sweetness around her.

“We are fighting on opposite sides of this war, Lovegood. We are enemies! We want different things in the world!”

“We both want our family and friends safe. In that, you and I are not so different. We both want our loved ones safe, no matter what it costs.”

“The difference is I fight for the Dark Lord!” She was getting under his skin. He didn’t like it.

“Because you want to?” she asked, her voice finally showing some sadness.

“Because I have to,” he said too quickly, before he could realize the implication of his answer.

Her eyes widened slightly at his words, her mouth pressing into a thin line as if she was stopping her next sentence. She took a couple steps toward him and he found himself lowering his wand. “Do you really want the Dark Lord to win, Draco?” she asked, her voice quiet, gentle, and inviting of truth. A pang resonated in Draco’s heart when he realized, truly realized, that Luna was the first person to genuinely ask him that question.

“Of course not,” he said, his body beginning to relax, not out of comfort, but despair. “Who in their actual right mind would want the world he is trying to create? A world of questionless loyalty under threat of punishment and death? No one would be safe there. No one.”

“Then why did you join him?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

Draco lowered his wand completely, his shoulders slumping as he though carefully about this answer. “Because at first I thought it was what I wanted. My father had done it, and so would I. Later, when it actually came time to join, it was because the world has told me that is my only option. I was forced to join his ranks or risk my life and the lives of my family.” He turned to look out the window at the battle below. How long until they made it inside?

Draco watched as three people ran from the castle toward the lake and could not contain a condescending chuckle that passed by his lips. He knew who that was and he wondered how long it would be until people realized Potter was running from the fight. “You know, Potter thought I was a Death Eater long before I took the Mark. Potter and I have always been two sides of the same coin. Two wizards with completely different personalities and traits; he with a destiny of light, while mine was always shrouded with darkness.”

“Why not choose this side? Why not defy your fate?”

“It’s never as simple as a choice, Luna,” he said, his voice just above a whisper, pushing his back to the wall and slowly sliding down to the floor. He was surprised, but not shocked, when the small girl sat down next to him, her shoulder pressing against his in a consoling gesture she must have thought he would accept. He almost laughed when he realized he appreciated it. “Some of us don’t have a way out. I’m a Malfoy. That used to mean security for me, but now it is a sentence. I had nowhere to run to if I left the service of the Dark Lord. More importantly, I can’t forsake my family like that and just leave them to the Dark Lord’s nonexistent mercy.”

“Why didn’t you all run?” She was actually curious, not condescending. This surprised him.

“We’ve all been raised for this; made to believe this was the way things should be done. I was stupid enough to burn too many bridges along the way, my father was too. We didn’t realized what we had done until it was too late.” He realized he had begun rubbing the Dark Mark on his arm. That horrible curse that would forever connect him to that monster. “I am one of them, this Mark on my arm screams that loud and clear.”

“You don’t have to be, you know,” she said, turning her head and giving him another smile.

“You and I both know it is too late for that,” he said flatly.

“No it isn’t. Tonight is an opportunity.”

Why was he still talking to this girl? Nonetheless, it wouldn’t hurt to play into her. “How so?”

“We both know tonight will mark a turning point or the end of this war.” Her eyes became focused on the windows across from the pair where muffled yells could be heard from the battle below. “This world will not be the same tomorrow. Either the Dark Lord will be in control and the world you described will come into being, or the Dark Lord will be beaten and we will start to rebuild from the ashes.”

Draco took a moment to think about those words. They were really a reflection of what he was thinking earlier but she made him realized the end he was pondering was much closer than he had considered. “You’re right.”

“We’ve all made decisions that have led to this moment. We’ve chosen sides. Helped those we fought with and those we’ve fought against. We’ve aided and disregarded family, friendship, hopes, and sometimes morals. We’ve tried to give up Harry to save our family members. We’ve lied and helped the Dark Lord. We’ve lied and helped Harry. You took the Mark. Everyone has done things we regret and things that make us proud. Everyone has made decisions. What everyone forgets is that our decisions don’t have to be permanent.”

This time, Draco couldn’t contain his sarcastic laugh. “You don’t understand, Lovegood.”

“What don’t I understand?” she said cocking her head once more.

“There are some decisions we make that cannot be undone. I have chosen to be a Death Eater. Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater. Your side can’t see it in any other light than that. I know that I will have to answer for my poor choses, I just wish I could take it back, just for tonight.”

“Then do it,” she said, her eyes fixed on his face.

Draco hesitated. “Come again?” he deadpanned.

A crash resounded through the halls quickly followed by terrified screams. Luna got to her feet and began moving toward the sound, toward the battle. “If that really what you want, Draco, just do it.”

“Do what?” he yelled as he pushed himself to his feet, calling after her running form.

She turned around and gave him a smile as she continued to run backward, a smile he had seen her give her friends on many occasions. “Choose to be one of us tonight.” With that, she turned and disappeared down the hall, leaving Draco standing alone, his mouth agape.

Her words had left no room for question. Draco stared at where she had vanished for a moment, his eyes moving back and forward as he replayed their conversation, searching for any missed deception. This must be a trap of some sort, but he couldn’t find any. She truly believed it was that easy.

“It’s not that simple,” he said just above a whisper.

A second crash rocked the castle, the floor under his feet quivering, pulling him from his thoughts. Lovegood didn’t understand. There was no going back! It was either help the Dark Lord or end up in Azkaban. The courts wouldn’t listen to him. All they needed was to look at the Mark and he was as good as Dementor fodder. He just had to get Potter to the Dark Lord and everything would be alright.

Then he remembered the three forms fleeing the castle. They didn’t have anyone else with them. If he could just get Potter away from Weasley and Granger, he could take him by surprise, just has he had done on the train last year. He could still do it. He could still get Potter for the Dark Lord and maybe, just maybe, he would let his family exist in peace. He began running down the halls, avoiding as many people as possible. Unlike earlier, he no longer felt like dying tonight. He needed to save his mother.

He pushed open a door that was just barely hanging onto its hinges and began running through the battlefield. Spells of a spectrum of colors shot in every possible direction and creatures of every size roamed the castle grounds. Draco forced himself to focus, but didn’t fire a shot. No need to pull attention to himself. He ran toward the boathouse. He was sure that was where the three were running when he saw Potter and his two lackies. He was going to do it, he was going to capture Potter. He was going to save his family.

A sudden pain like a hot iron slicing through his skull hit him, sending him to the ground in agony. He could hear him. He could hear the Dark Lord in his head. He was demanding Potter surrender himself, and with that, it was over. Not just the pain, but the leverage to create favor for his family. It was all gone.

He remained on the round with his head clutched in his hands, unable to get up as all hope for his family was lost. He felt tears begin to form in his eyes as despair began to press at his heart. They would never get out from the under the Dark Lord’s thumb now. Potter was the last hope had to solidify his family’s standing with that madman. Unless Potter pulled out a miracle, they were slaves to him forever, and even if Potter could do it, he would just be shipped off to Azkaban.

He needed some time to think, some place quiet. He pulled himself from the mud and looked up. Before him sat the boathouse. It was likely that Potter was no longer there, not after that announcement. He might as well go in and form a new plan.

He had never been to the boathouse before; he had never had a reason to. His mother had almost been killed by one of the vile creatures that bred in the lake and she had made him promise not to go near it unless he had to for a class. He always kept that promise, but now he had a better reason. He needed to escape for a moment.

He had never had that before.

He opened the door ahead and had to physically step away as a horrible smell hit him like a ton of bricks. The last two years had made him quite familiar with that retched smell. Blood. There must be quite a lot of it for the smell to be that strong. There was no way he was going to stick around if there was a decimated body here.

But what if it’s Potter? he thought. What if the Moodlblood and the Blood Traitor killed him to save their own skins? The Dark Lord will massacre everyone if he doesn’t now that’s why he was a no-show to the forest. He knew the thought was a long shot, but this was war and more unlikely things had happened during war.

He drew his wand and readied himself. Even if it wasn’t Potter, whatever was creating that smell was not going to be pretty. He also couldn’t be sure if the injuring party was gone. He walked slowly through the hallway and his attention was caught by the dark silhouette surrounded by blood on the other side of the frosted glass. He was right, this was going to be downright morbid.

He stopped and listened for a moment. There was no sound except the movement of the water hitting the dock posts. No one was there. Just him and the deceased. He decided to get it over with; in and out. It’s Potter or it’s not. If it is, he had to tell the Dark Lord; if not, who cared about another bloody dead man in a war. He took a deep breath, trying to simultaneously calm his nerves and not gag on the copper taste in the air. He quickly turned the corner and froze.

His heart stopped.

His eyes welled.

His hands shook.

His wand fell.

Before him was the mangled body of Severus Snape. His favorite teacher. His godfather. The only person who had told him to stay away from the Dark Lord. All of his visible skin: his face, neck and hands, were marred with blood and…..were those teeth marks? Some of the bitten areas were tinged a sickly color of green as he sat leaning against the fogged glass. He knew what these meant. He had seen this before.

Nagini.

The snake had killed him, but why? She never acted of her own will, which meant the Dark Lord had ordered his death. But Severus had always been loyal, always been Voldemort’s favorite since the war started, why would he kill him? The thought made his heart speed up and his chest tighten. If he was willing to kill Severus, this meant none of them were safe.

As he stood, his eyes fixed on the marred body of his teacher, the truth staring him in the face truly began to slowly sink in. Severus was dead. He would never receive special lessons during the summer again. He would never tell Draco he was proud of him on graduation. He would never share all of life’s milestones with him as he had hoped. He was gone.

And he cried.

He fell to his knees as hot tears began to cascade down his face. The floodgates opened in a way they had not in years. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He had done everything he was supposed to do to keep the people he loved safe. He had helped kill Dumbledore. He had tortured Muggles and Blood Traitors. He had even helped hunt down a couple Order sympathizers. How could this have happened? He did everything he was told!

He couldn’t stay her any longer, but he couldn’t leave him here like this. He picked up his wand moved to the corpse of his biggest supporter. This man had done everything in his power to make Draco a better man, rather than just the heir to the Malfoy name. He deserved better than to be found like this. He laid him down and cast a few spells, carefully cleaning the blood from his skin and the surrounding walls. He tried pulling the venom from his face. It didn’t remove all of the green pigmentation, but it made it a little better. He became frustrated as the few spells he knew to take down the swelling wouldn’t work, even though, deep down, he knew they would be ineffective on the deceased.

He adjusted his robes, hiding the tears as best he could, and removed the dust from the cloth. Finally, he closed the man’s dark eyes and cleaned off what appeared to be tear streaks from his face. He knew Severus wouldn’t want anyone to know he had cried in his final moments. Draco stood and looked at the man, his heart tightening at the site. He looked more like he was sleeping now, but Draco knew better.

He turned to leave and heard the sound of people running in the distance. He looked back at his teacher. What if someone found him? What if it was Potter’s side? They would do something to his body, he knew it. Probably the same if the Death Eater’s ranks found him. He was the favorite and he wouldn’t put it past anyone out there to deface his godfather. He couldn’t let that happen.

He dug into his memory and tried to remember the wards Severus had taught him earlier that year. He felt his chest tighten again at the thought of how he had treated the man this year. He had been so angry, and now he wouldn’t never even talk to Severus again. He struggled with the words, but he determined he must have recalled them correctly as a silver shimmering bubble appeared around his professor before fading away. He reached forward and felt the sensation of passing through water and smiled.

“Told you I could do it,” he said, another tear falling down his cheek.

With one last look, he turned away and slowly made his way across the grounds, removing all remnants of tears from his face. He was vaguely aware of how quiet it had become. The birds that usually filled the air with music were absent, the crickets silent. Even the lake, which had never been quiet in all of the years he had attended the school, sat still as death.

A fitting tribute to the eternal silence of his godfather.

He knew where the Dark Lord would be waiting for Potter; however, that was not where his feet carried him. He went through the front doors of the school, climbing that grand staircase he had traversed all those years ago to the Great Hall, afraid he would be sorted into Gryffindor, or worse, Hufflepuff, and have to face the wrath of his father. He stared at the door to the Hall, or rather, the shattered frame that used to house the doors to the room. Great. That’s really what it had been, but now? Now he wasn’t so sure. Now it was filled with lines of injured or dead. He couldn’t quite tell since none of them were really moving, but none were covered either. The room which had once been filled with excitement and chatter was replaced with mans of pain and cries of sorrow. This was not the Great Hall. This was a field hospital.

Few noticed his entrance, much to his liking, but those who did threw glances of concern and disgust. No one approached him; no one came to check if he had any wounds. He just found a spot near the back of the hall where he would hopefully remain unnoticed. He watched the people as the time passed. Every few minutes someone else would enter sending those with healing capabilities into a frenzy as they did a quick assessment. Shouts of sorrow and tears of relief sporadically broke through the hall as new members were found by family and friends.

“Dad!” came a call, breaking through the chaos and pulling Draco’s attention. Not many of legal age were in this room, only the teachers and the Order. His eyes fell on one of the Weasley twins, gods if he could remember which was which, carrying the other on his back, unconscious. He watched as the whole family, minus Ron, ran to his side and placed the unconscious twin on the floor, tears flowing as they reunited. Must be nice to know where your family was and if they were alive.

“No! My baby!” Draco jumped at the volume of the cry as Mrs. Weasley, Molly he thought he remembered her name was, fell to the floor next to her husband. Tears fell heavy as she rested her head on her son’s chest. Draco felt his heart stop when he realized his mistake. He wasn’t unconscious. The Weasley twin was dead.

He guessed now he would be able to remember the difference between the two.

Crabbe, Snape, the Weasley twin. People he knew. They were dying. And for what?

“Draco?” The soft sound pulled him from his thoughts to the light-haired girl standing beside him. Her face was dirty and her lip was split and bleeding.

“Luna.”

“You’re alright?” she asked, smiling and sitting next to him once more. She was obviously giving him a quick once over for injuries.

“I’ll live for now. What about you?”

“I’ve had worse,” she said, causing Draco to shake his head slightly at the implication. “It will all heal in time.” Her gaze glanced over to the rows of injured and dead on the hall floor.

Draco looked at the unmoving bodies on the floor and forced the tears away at the thought of his godfather, lying alone in the boathouse, wishing he could bring him here. “Snape is dead,” he said, his voice low as he kept his eyes trained on the bodies.

His saw Luna’s head snapped toward him out of the corner of his eye, her face registering nothing but shock. Eyes wide, mouth agape for a mere moment. “What? How?”

“I think he killed him.”

He waited for the barrage of joy that Snape was gone; dreading the glee she would express at the loss of another Death Eater. He felt his shoulders and back tighten as he tensed to keep control when it hit. Why had he even said anything?

“Draco, I’m so sorry.”

His gaze shot to hers in a second, eyes slanted and brow furled. “What?” he said more harshly than he had intended.

“I’m sorry. I always thought you and he had a special connection. I was never sure if it was sympathy for a favorite student or if he was more than a mentor, but I always knew he was important to you. I’m so sorry we lost him.”

“Why are you sorry? He was a Death Eater. Shouldn’t you be glad he’s dead?” He found the venom leaching into his words as he berated her. She had no right to be saddened by his passing.

“Because very few people in this world deserve that fate,” she said, dropping her gaze to the floor. “Voldemort deserves it, maybe even Bellatrix, but I don’t think Professor Snape did. I may not have liked him very much. I thought he was too strict and I don’t think he cared much for me either, but he didn’t deserve to die. There are people he was important to that will miss him greatly.”

“Harry!” a voice called through the hall ceasing the pair’s exchange. Draco saw the boy in the crowd and let out a sigh of relief. He wasn’t dead. Maybe there would be no massacre.

“You’re happy to see him,” said Luna, no question in her voice.

“What?”

“You’re happy. I’m glad.”

“I’m just glad he is alive to go to the Dark Lord. No more people have to die because of him.”

“No one here is dying for Harry,” she said. Draco turned and stared at her. “They are fighting against tyranny. They know what will happen if Voldemort wins and they are fighting to prevent it. They are fighting to keep their family and friends safe. Harry is only a factor in the equation of victory.”

“So are the Death Eaters,” said Draco watching as Ron fell at his brother’s side as he lay empty on the floor. “We all are.”

“You said it earlier though,” she said, following his gaze to Ron. “With Voldemort, no one is safe.”

Draco stared at the Weasley family, his heart and chest tightening. Would that be him and his mother at the end of all of this? Would she be Ron or the twin? He shook his head. No, he had to believe they would make it though.

Harry turned and began walking out of the hall, pulling Draco’s attention to him. He found the boy’s walk strange, solemn yet determined as if he had made up his mind about something. The most intriguing portion of this action to Draco was that he was leaving without his lackies. Did this mean he was going to run? He stood to go after the boy but was stopped by a hand on his arm.

“Leave him, Draco,” said Luna, looking into his eyes.

“But what if he is running?” he asked, turning to watch the boy exit the hall without catching anyone’s attention.

“He won’t,” she said, tugging on his arm to pull his gaze back to her.

“How do you know?”

“I trust him,” she said with a smile.

“Trust?” he said raising an eyebrow. “That’s it?”

Her smile didn’t falter for a moment. “Yes.”

“I don’t operate on trust.” He gently pulled his arm from her grasp and saw her smile fall. He felt the urge to apologize, but didn’t. He was a Malfoy, and a Malfoy doesn’t do anything he is sorry for. He had to resist the urge to scoff at himself at that one. If a Malfoy didn’t regret, then he might as well take on the sir name Longbottom. He turned to walk away.

“Then try.”

He turned back in a flash. “What?” His tongue felt sharp in his mouth.

“Then try. You said it yourself, your way hasn’t been working so far.” She stopped for a moment and looked around, as if checking to see if anyone was listening. She continued, her voice much quieter than before. “You said you didn’t want the Dark Lord to win. Try it our way. Put your trust in Harry and I will show you that he won’t disappoint you.”

Draco stared at her face for a moment, instinctively searching for her deception, but there was none. She truly believed Potter would make the right decision and do what was right for those who followed him. “I don’t know, Luna.”

“Draco, I’m not trying to use him against you, but Professor Snape didn’t trust Harry either, he put his lot in with the Dark Lord. I don’t want you to turn out like he did.”

Draco felt anger rise in his chest at the mention of his godfather. How dare she use him like this? But after a few moments his anger subsided as he really thought about what she had said. She was worried about him ending up like Severus. She didn’t want him dead, a concept she had shared multiple times tonight, but one that was hard for him to completely accept. He hesitated for another moment before sitting back down. He continued to stare at her. “Fine, I won’t go after him.”

“You won’t be disappointed,” she said, her smile returning.

“So what do we do now?” he asked. “While Saint Potter does whatever you trust him to do, I mean.”

“We just wait,” she said, leaning her chin on her hands and watching the people in the hall move about. Draco stared at her for a moment, waiting for her to start up conversation again, but she just sat in that position, watching.

Draco turned and watched the people in the room once more. He saw more bodies being brought into the hall. Whether they were alive or dead he still couldn’t decipher. Madam Pomfrey would check for signs of life on each incoming patient and send them to one of two areas: the patient side or the morgue side. Draco saw many carried in that he recognized and others he didn’t, but most of which he could tell attended school with him. He thought he knew everyone at their school, but it seemed he hadn’t been keeping as good of tabs on the younger classes as he thought.

He heard sobs as the dead were mourned by friends and, in some instances, family. He wondered if anyone would mourn Severus if he would be carried here. His mind was flooded with the images of his favorite teacher, eyes wide and face drained, tinted green from venom. Tears welled in his eyes for a moment before he forced himself to push them back. He was amongst his enemies. He couldn’t show weakness.

“Mr. Malfoy?” came an elderly voice as Professor McGonagall crouched down into his line of sight. “Draco, are you alright?”

He felt her place a hand on his shoulder and he had to force himself not to instinctively shrug it off. Her lips were pursed as she took in his face. “I’m fine, just a couple burns.” His voice was sharper than he intended.

“We can get something for that,” she said, turning. “Poppy, something for burns.”

Draco stood, “I don’t need anything. I’m fine.”

“You need to have them looked at.”

“I said I’m fine,” he said again, turning to walk away. He came to a quick stop as a dark haired man was carried into the hall. He felt himself relax as he witnessed Snape being carried in for care, but he quickly remembered that wasn’t possible. The man was being carried in by students. There was no way they would have been able to break his ward. He took a closer look at the man and realized it wasn’t his teacher.

“Draco, let us help you.”

He quickly ran the scenario in his head: the ending he wanted and the paths needed to be taken to have one player reach that conclusion. Ultimately, he wanted to be the one reaching that end; that Snape would be taken care of, but he had to be realistic. He could very well die today and he needed someone that could break his ward. He knew of very few that could do it and even less that he would even find acceptable to find the man’s body, but one of the favorable players was right here, right now.

“There is one thing you could do for me,” he said, slowly turning to meet her gaze.

“What is it?”

“Severus is dead.”

He watched her eyes widen and the tips of her fingers tough her lips. Her mouth moved to speak, but she was unable for a brief moment. To Draco’s surprise, he watched as tears welled in her eyes. “How?” she managed to whisper.

“Nagini, the Dark Lord’s snake. He had to have ordered it. I don’t know why, but he decided Snape needed to die.”

“Oh. I… Draco… Where…?” she stuttered.

“His body is out in the boathouse, but I was afraid to move him. I don’t know who to take him to that won’t defile him. I put a ward around his body. I don’t know if I am going to make it through today.” He hesitated, the words catching in his throat as his brain yelled at him that she was against him. He pushed it away. McGonagall may hate him, but she was always fair. “If I don’t make it to the other side of this thing, will you break the ward and make sure he is taken care of?”

She continued to look at him wide eyed, as if she was still shocked by the news or the fact that he was coming to her for help. He didn’t care, but if she wasn’t willing to help he was going to need to find another, his mother maybe. The pair was silent for only a moment, but it felt like an eternity. “Please, Pro….”

“Of course, Draco,” she said, her shock dissolving. “If the worst should happen, I will make sure his body is not desecrated.” She gave him a small, sad smile.

Draco gave her a smile back before people started rushing toward the door of the Great Hall. Draco turned his head back and forth as new movement caught his attentions with whispers of “He’s here!” and “What’s going on?” Draco turned to follow the crowd, but first made eye contact with the witch. “Thank you.”

He followed the mass out toward the courtyard where individuals seemed frozen in place, staring at the scene before them. He pushed forward until he was in the courtyard only to see a mob of Death Eaters at the bridge crossing, the Dark Lord leading the way. “Harry Potter is DEAD!” he yelled, mouth stretched into a menacing smile as his followers cheered and laughed. Draco searched the crowd, knowing full well that the Dark Lord wouldn’t come without proof of something like this. His eyes landed on Hagrid, ropes tied to a collar around his neck, a dead Harry in his arms. Draco felt his heart drop.

Wait, was he upset Potter was dead? He had done what Draco had hoped, turned himself over so that no one else would have to give their life for him, so why did he feel so hopeless? Perhaps it was because the hope for a miracle was finally and completely demolished. So much for the always reliable Saint Potter.

“Anyone who wishes to join us will be welcomed with open arms,” he said, the lies slipping over his lips like the tongue of a serpent. How fitting.

It took all of his self-control to suppress the shutter that made its way down his spine. That tone of voice was used often among the Death Eaters, promising forgiveness only to shatter reality when the doors are closed. Anyone who crossed that gap were walking to open arms with a promise of punishment for opposing him in the first place, but maybe that was better than the death promised to those who didn’t take his invitation.

He looked over the crowd he was standing in, seeing the faces of the students he had attended school with. How many of the people he knew would yet go to their graves today? These were their choices: pain or death. A flash of his godfather’s mangled face crashed into is mind’s eye. What if death awaited them all anyway?

“Draco!” came a sharp whisper, pulling his attention back to the present. He found the voice’s owner very quickly, his eyes locking with those of his emaciated father. “Draco, come here!”

He felt hundreds of eyes land on him all at once, feeling the weight of the gazes threatening to overwhelm him. Gazes ranging from curiosity to disgust, hope to rage. His father stood with his hand outstretched, demanding him to join his family beside the Dark Lord.

And for the first time since he took the Mark, he hesitated. He had long believed that being on the side of the Dark Lord would save him and his family from the man’s wrath. He believed that he was merciful in his rage toward his followers, but now that thought was tainted by a dead and bleeding image of his mentor. There was no safety in his spider web of a safety net. The only safety was that no others would harm you until the spider itself came to take your life; a web he had ignorantly gotten himself stuck in.

He went to take a step forward the web pulling him back in. It probably wouldn’t be much longer for him before the spider came anyway.

“Draco.”

The voice was soft and calming, one which no one else seemed to notice. He found its owner soon enough. Their hair was fair like his fathers, but rather than fear and rage, their face was calm and warm. Without words or movement, she asked him to reconsider, not to go. Her words from earlier rang in his head again.

Be one of us tonight.

His mind raced again, revealing what his life had become in an attempt to save his family and himself. Fear and pain owned him. He had caused pain as well, hexing Katie Bell, using the Imperius curse on Rosmerta, poisoning Weasley, and aiding in the death of the greatest wizard of his time. Even after the sacrifices he had made for all of that, for losing himself, there still was no safety from the madman. Snape had shown him that.

And with all illusions of safety removed, he was free to choose where he wanted to be.

Be one of us tonight.

And he took a step back.

“No.”

She smiled that smile again.

He vaguely noted that Neville had stepped forward and said some words, but Draco didn’t hear them. He was too caught up in the looks he was receiving to hear his rounding speech on Harry supportism. Luna was smiling, as were others he did not recognize, some he did. This included his mother. She stood behind his father, a ghost of a smile gracing her face through the mask of mock shock she placed there. She was happy with his choice, but she couldn’t show it. His father appeared to be more baffled than furious, his brow furled and mouth agape as his eyes shot from the Dark Lord to Draco and back again.

Suddenly, there was a scream causing many of the on looking witches and wizards to jump as Harry Potter defied fate again, jumping from the half-giant’s arms and running from the courtyard. Draco couldn’t help but laugh inwardly at the fact the Potter had indeed pulled off a miracle. He truly wasn’t disappointed in his choice. War cries filled the space again and Draco followed suit, shooting a stunning spell toward the line of Death Eaters, careful to aim away from his family. He felt a small hand grab his, pulling him toward the castle.

Luna smiled back at him as they ran, a red stunning spell missing her by mere inches. She shot a spell back; Draco doing the same. She looked at him again, releasing his hand with a small laugh. As he followed her, he felt…light, as if a giant weight had been cut away from his chest, allowing him to breathe like he had never been able before. He wondered if Severus would be proud of him, and believed he would be. He didn’t know if he would make it through this night, but for once, it felt like there might be something to see tomorrow. He couldn’t help but smile at the new sensation. He had never truly felt it before. Freedom.

‘I guess, sometimes, it is a simple as a choice.’

 

* * *

 

“As long as you’re breathing, it’s never too late to do some good.”

~Maya Angelou

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by a prompt, Prompt 594: Be One of Us Tonight, on the Tumblr page Harry Potter Fanfiction Prompts at http://hpfanfictionprompts.tumblr.com/.
> 
> Disclosure: I do not own the characters which belong to J.K. Rowling.


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